Chapter 7

Camfer was pretty sure he was going to die. He’d been having one of his feelings, but this one had lasted longer than usual. He still had it after… well, after he’d done the thing, and it was still getting worse.

The first time he’d gotten a feeling, he hadn’t known what it was. His unit had been ordered to investigate complaints of thefts surrounding a rural farming area. Typically orders like this saw the men escorting one or more belligerent farmers to the local adjunct to hand down a ruling. Only he’d gotten a feeling.

It’d started when he’d woken up, and persisted all day as they rode out to investigate and hassle the complaining farmers. It was like being watched and having forgotten something important you were supposed to do at the same time. A nagging tug at the edge of his awareness that wouldn’t leave him alone.

He’d tried to tell the others about it, feeling certain it meant something, but he’d been mocked and ribbed into silence. They’d ridden in to discover it was no farmer that was causing trouble. It had been one of those border-crossing wild men, they seemed to always be vaguely at war with. He’d fought like a maniac and killed one man and wounded several of the others before they brought him down. The wild men were savages.

That’d been the first, but it hadn’t been the last. Every time the unit was headed for danger, or one of “those” tasks— the kind that took some of your soul away— Camfer would get a feeling. The men paid attention now. Trouble was, he’d had the feeling since they were ordered to ride out. That was five days ago. No feeling had ever lasted this long before. The amount of time he had the feeling before the event usually indicated the severity. The longest was almost three days, which had ended with the death of Barry, who he’d become close to.

What they’d just done had been horrible. Everyone was walking in silence in the blowing snow. Orders had been to put down some local farmers who were intent on raising the Tyrannous banner and starting another war. They were supposed to put down anyone who even knew the name— which was stupid, because everyone knew the name— and amounted to being ordered to kill a bunch of farmers. This had been one of those things deserving of a feeling. One of the things that took part of your soul.

They followed orders. Questioned and killed the farmers. It hadn’t been sitting right with anyone, but every man here was loyal and followed orders. That was the job of a soldier. To do unpleasant things. Trouble was, the feeling hadn’t gone away. It had gotten worse. It was now an ache in the back of his teeth.

The temperature had dropped and the snow was piling up. No one in the unit was dressed for this kind of weather. A blizzard this time of year was weird.

Camfer leaned into the wind and snow and trudged up the file of men. They were spread out, waking in single file to make going easier. When he got to the head of the column he spoke up,

“Feelin ain’t gone away sir. I’m start’n think maybe I’m gonna die.”

Commander Roth looked up from the compass he was holding. He was as solid man, and a good commander. He always listened when one of his men brought something to him.

“Once we find shelter that feeling will go away. Now go get back in line Cam.”

“Sir, I don’t mean to pry, but— we lost?”

Roth’s eyes flashed, “Back in line soldier!”

Camfer straightened, “Sir!”

He stood where he was and let the line march past until his place came up. There were only seven men, but standing still emphasized the slowness with which they were moving. The two scouts would normally range ahead, but the storm had grown so bad they’d joined the unit and were now marching in line. Camfer couldn’t blame them. You could walk ten feet from the line of men and lose them in this.

Jovey caught his eye as Camfer stepped back in line, “Well?”

“Yep,” Camfer said, “we lost.”

“Shit.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Feeling still there?”

Camfer said nothing.

“We’re all gonna freeze to death.”

“Now we don’t know that, maybe it just me.”

Jovey gave him a flat look.

“Yeah alright, just work on walkin,” Camfer adjusted his helmet.

Jovey snorted, “You just admit you think we’re gonna die and tell me to keep walking?”

“Least it keep you warm.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

They trudged on, the only sound the blowing wind and their feet in the snow. Camfer could hear the shifting of his pack, because he’d brought a warm hat. It covered his ears and blocked some of the blowing wind. One of his uncles had lost an ear in the war to the cold, and told Camfer to pack a hat everywhere. Camfer had taken the advice to heart and was the only one with a warm hat in the unit. It helped his helmet fit better. Helmets were always too big, and would slide around on his head.

The line stopped abruptly and Camfer ran into the guy ahead of him. Instead of yelling at him, his focus remained in front, something at the head of the line having arrested his attention. Camfer leaned around him to try and get a look.

Through the swirls of snow Camfer could just make out a man blocking the way forward. On first glance he looked like a farmer, dressed in a simple shirt and pants, beard grown out like a commoner. Then as the man’s eyes passed over the line of men, Camfer’s bad feeling stung him. This caused him to look closer, and he saw that this man’s sleeves and pant legs were already stained with blood. Camfer had seen enough of it that he could tell even at a distance in a blizzard: This man was death.

Camfer fumbled at the bag his crossbow was wrapped in. The snow was falling so wet and thick that he’d put the weapon away. He liked the weapon, he’d even named it— Marge, after his mother-in-law. They both could be a hard-nosed bitch when the time called for it.

Commander Roth ordered the man in the path to identify himself.

“That a farmer?” Jovey asked.

“Something else,” Camfer managed to free Marge from the bag.

“You gonna shoot him?”

“That feelin’ been houndin’ me all week; that feelin is rollin off him like stink off shit.”

“Well damn.” Jovey peered around the line at the man in the road. He stuck his hands in his armpits and stamped his feet. “He don’t look like trouble. Probably froze to death standing there. I’m so numb; don’t know if I could hold my sword.”

Jovey had a point. It took Camfer three tries load Marge with numb fingers. The man in the road hadn’t moved. Commander Roth signaled Lou and Yance. Both men drew swords. Commander Roth issued an ultimatum to the man to identify himself or be cut down.

“You won’t need’a hold yer sword. Marge is about to shaft this fucker right in the eye—“

***

The line of soldiers came to a stop when they caught sight of him. Tythos stared at them, trying to get a good look at their uniforms. The dark clouds overhead and blowing snow made this difficult.

“Can you see their uniforms clearly?” Tythos was speaking too low to be heard by anyone but the nightmare.

“You know, I can’t see clothes at all,” said the creature.

“What? Since when?”

“Since always.”

“That doesn’t make sense. When I was in your senses—“

“You were never in my senses, you were projecting and amplifying your own.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Huh. So what do these men look like to you?”

“It would be easier to show you— if you would just deepen our bond.”

“Out of the question.”

The men in the line were shuffling forward, peering around each other to see why they had stopped. The man in front looked like he wished Tythos would go away before he had to acknowledge his existence and deal with him.

“Just give me an example and we’ll talk about it later.”

“Really?” The nightmare sounded hopeful.

“Yes. Damnit, hurry up, I want you covering the crossbowman.”

“Well, the man with the crossbow is afraid of you. The others are annoyed or curious.”

“You can see fear?”

“I can see a spectrum of emotions, it’s not so simple. The crossbowman sees a little bit the way I do. That’s why he’s so scared and has already decided to kill you.”

“Okay… take him out of the fight, but don’t kill him.”

“But you said—“

“I’ll get you some one else, I want to talk to that man.”

The man at the front of the line looked like he’d made up his mind and made a subtle gesture to the men behind him. “Identify yourself!” He shouted.

“He doesn’t recognize you,” Said the nightmare.

“No kidding. Seems disgrace is a great disguise.”

The men in the line started muttering, to them it would appear Tythos was just standing there.

“They’re getting antsy. The one in front is about to try and kill you.”

“Even I can see that. This doesn’t add up though. Why would they bring a whole centurum but send individual units to the farms?”

The man in front issued an ultimatum. Tythos ignored him, continuing to think out loud,

“It’s worse than that, why would they ward against you, but not tell these men I was in the valley?”

“You sure they are coming from a farm, they could be Endelmyers’s men.”

“Shit. You’re right.” Tythos spoke up and addressed the line of soldiers, “You boys coming from a farm?”

“Oooh, they’re all afraid of you nooow, some are even ashamed.”

The man in front made another gesture and ordered his men to clear the path.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Tythos eyed the line of soldiers.

***

“You boys coming from a farm?” The man’s voice boomed, and rolled over the line, startling and halting everyone. He had a commander’s voice and was easily heard over the storm.

“Shit,” Jovey said. “He don’t sound like a farmer.” He reached for his sword.

“Clear the path,” Commander Roth ordered.

Camfer stepped to the side, but now Yance was in his line of fire. Lou and Yance advanced with swords out, heading for opposite sides of the man.

“Guess that’s a yes,” the man said. He seemed unconcerned with the two armed soldiers advancing on him, instead looking at the remaining five men in line. “Which one of you is best at answering questions?”

Lou stepped in with a clean lunge, center mass. The man turned with the lunge, guiding the sword to the side of his body with an almost casual grace and slapped him. The sound of breaking bones told the truth of that slap, like breaking an egg, only louder. Lou collapsed into a limp pile. Camfer saw the man was holding a white club, or piece of bone. It hadn’t been a slap, it’d been a strike.

Lou was in a bad way and Yance was still blocking his shot. Cursing, Camfer began walking wide to get an angle. Yance drew a dagger and shifted to sword and dagger. Camfer’s feeling was still getting worse.

Yance jabbed with the sword, ready with the dagger if the man got in close. The man swatted the sword with the club. He caught it on the flat, and the sword rang as it swung in the wrong direction. Camfer winced. He knew what a ringing sword would feel like with cold fingers. The man stood and waited while Yance got his sword under control.

Camfer stumbled in the snow and heard the sword ring again while he got up. He heard Yance yell and looked. The man was still standing there, poised, but looking unconcerned. Yance looked angry.

“Crossbowman!” Commander Roth yelled.

“Sir!” Camfer responded, brushing the snow from the weapon. Yance yelled again, and again the sword rang. Camfer looked up and saw the man had stepped in this time. There was a slap and the dagger Yance held spun away. Yance brought the sword back in a sweep, but the man stepped close and head-butted him. Cursing again, Camfer stepped to the side once more to try and get a shot, and fell into a hole.

He fell nearly straight down and caught himself with his elbows. The crossbow went off, bucking painfully with the awkward angle. Camfer dropped it and tried to push himself up, but it felt like he’d fallen into mud. The hole sucked at him, preventing him from pulling free.

There was another ringing strike followed by a crunch. Camfer looked up in time to see Yance crumple. Then his feet and legs began to burn. Camfer began to scream.

***

The nightmare grabbed the crossbowman freeing Tythos up to get in close. The screams were a nice touch. The whole line of men turned to look.

Tythos leapt among them as they began to group up, taking full advantage of their distraction. The man in command was the closest, and the quickest to react. Tythos dashed past him as he brought his sword to bear. The men behind the commander looked startled to see him. He hooked the closest behind the neck with the jawbone and pulled him stumbling into the commander. This left two men standing in front of him. They both raised their guards. Tythos stepped in and began swinging.

It was stupid, engaging like this. With the blizzard he could have gotten half of them, or more, before they ever saw him. Especially with the nightmare’s new bizarre ability to swallow people. But he wanted them to see it coming.

Tythos twisted past a thrust and brought the bone down on a man’s shoulder. Something inside the man snapped. A step behind was unmistakable and Tythos twisted just enough to guide the thrust into the man he’d just clubbed.

He was making emotional decisions in the field. In a fight. He knew this was the wrong move. Ten years out of practice and he was taking them head on. Taking risks. Taking hits too.

***

Camfer stopped screaming when he saw the terrifying man leap amongst his unit. Cursing, he reached for his crossbow, pushing down the pain and panic to try and do his job. When he reached for the weapon, the mud he was in sucked him down a little farther. His legs were on fire. He kept expecting the snow around his waist to belch forth smoke.

He had hold of the weapon now, but had to keep his elbows on the ground to keep from being pulled deeper. He strained against the cord on the weapon, even letting go and sinking a little deeper. He gave up on this right before his head sunk beneath the piled snow around him.

He looked on helplessly as the man stepped between sword strokes and broke bones with his strange club. He took every opportunity to hit the men around him and confuse their efforts to spread out and surround him.

The man’s strikes with the club were fast, flashing out at any target in range. By contrast, his movements seemed slow, flowing, but it was like he always knew where he needed to stand. He stepped out of the way of sword strokes and thrusts with the casual grace of a dancing performer.

Commander Roth, who was the best of them, managed to land a hit with his sword, but the man stepped in and tangled the sword up with his bone club. Commander Roth landed a solid punch and it looked like the fight was over.

***

The commander turned out to be a brawler and landed a solid punch when his sword got tied up. Tythos let go of the bone cudgel, and grabbed the man by the first thing he could reach. He caught the man’s lower jaw. Two fingers right in his mouth. The man instinctively tried to spit them out, jerk back. Wrong move. Ten years had added strength to the hand doing the work of two. Tythos yanked downward with all his might. There was a loud crack and the man fell forward, onto him.

Tythos twisted away from the falling man, managing to keep his feet. He took a step away and someone hit him with a sword. It struck him in the back and he twisted and caught hold of the blade. He yanked hard and the man stumbled. Tythos kicked him in the knee. A quick snap-kick to the side. The joint buckled and the man fell. Tythos found himself holding a sword, so he pinned the fallen man to the ground with it.

He ducked a thrust, found his jawbone cudgel, rolled forward and crushed the instep of the attacker. The man fell onto him, losing his sword, but managed to grab Tythos by the throat. It was the commander, his broken jaw hanging, leaving his mouth open impossibly wide. The jaw flapped loosely from where it hung, as he struggled with Tythos.

Tythos let the man have the hold on his throat. He still had the cudgel. He pinned the hands with his chin and started swinging. The commander fell away after three and Tythos followed and finished him with several blows to the head.

Breathing hard, Tythos stood. The man who’d taken the gut wound was trying to get up. Tythos walked over and finished him. Two dead, one pinned with a sword and one beaten unconscious. The man pinned by the sword was whimpering, so Tythos walked over and ended it for him.

Tythos turned toward the crossbowman. The man had a look of horror on his face, cut by obvious pain. Just his upper torso was above ground, his head not far above the snow. His crossbow lay right in front of him. Tythos walked over and looked down at the man.

“Spit him out,” Tythos said.

The dark creature rose out of the ground, the man rising with it. Wide eyed, he flailed his arms for purchase, but remained silent. Looking down at the creature that had swallowed his legs and lower torso with a look of horror. Tythos had seen that look on men’s faces before. That was the look you gave a missing limb.

Tythos sighed. Horror sometimes turned the mind off. Tythos thought it retreated, taking with it the parts of the person that were still good. Keeping the horror from tainting what should remain inviolate. He’d seen men go away. Some came back; some didn’t. Nothing Tythos knew of could affect when, or if, they did. And this was the man he’d chosen to question.

The creature reached its full height, bent over and vomited the man out. Tythos skipped back, not wanting to get splashed by the acid. The man flopped onto the ground, but was not followed by a flood of bile. Tythos stepped closer. The man actually looked to be intact. He’d been unsure if the man was going to come out with his legs half melted.

Tythos grunted, “So you can swallow someone without covering them in acid?” This might offer some interesting smuggling options if he could make someone disappear into thin air.

“Nooo,” the nightmare said. “I emptied my stomach less than an hour ago. At your request. It takes time and energy to replace the acid.”

“And then I let you consume him.”

“That’s not the same.”

“I’m… going to regret asking, but how is it different?”

“You killed him. All that was left for me to consume was death. I can no more live on only death than you can just bread. Mmm, I need to balance my diet.”

“Uh-huh. And what? You were consuming the man’s soul and I released it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t consume souls. That would be evil. I need fear, pain, despair, and heartbreak to balance my diet.”

“Right. That’s so much better. Not evil at all. You know what? I do regret asking. This is what I get for breaking my rule about asking you questions.”

“You have a rule about asking me questions?”

“Yeah, and it’s getting stricter, believe me.”

“That’s just rude.”

The crossbowman was laying as he’d fallen, staring up at Tythos. Tythos crouched down in front of him.

“What’s your name?”

The man’s eyes slid off of him and rolled to where the men were lying dead in the snow. Tythos snapped his fingers in front of the man’s face.

“Name and rank soldier!”

“Camfer Trebeu, Citizen, third class, loader, sir!” The response tumbled out of the man at the command, and he looked surprised to have given it.

“Alright Camfer, how good are you at answering questions?”

***